


San Antonio Will Be Our Fiji

by dovingbird



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Clothed Frottage, Healthy Communication, Hook-Up, M/M, More attractive sassy men than your body has room for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-29
Updated: 2016-01-29
Packaged: 2018-05-17 00:15:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5846470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dovingbird/pseuds/dovingbird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written to express my disappointment at <a href="https://41.media.tumblr.com/62d884f6c8778b0ae51b80c79d436b5a/tumblr_o1paq230FH1uj1xkzo1_540.png">this filthy picture</a> provided by Rubin himself.</p>
<p>Joel is settling into his hotel for Pax. Jon happens to be missing a hotel room for the night. Finally all of Joel’s evil sexy plans are coming together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	San Antonio Will Be Our Fiji

Joel is brushing his teeth when he hears the knock on the door, and he saunters over with a hand in his pajama's pocket and peeks through the viewing hole in the hotel room door.  
  
Jon Risinger, as expected, deliverer of delightful voice mails and pretty smiles. Joel grins around the toothbrush, watching the other man shift his weight from foot to foot. Jon looks up and down the hallway, then begins bouncing one of his legs absently. He has a small suitcase sitting next to him and his bottom lip between his teeth. Clearly anxious about something.  
  
 _I wonder what_ , Joel thinks as dryly as he can manage.  
  
A few more seconds pass and Jon knocks on the door one more time. Pauses. Finally flicks his eyes up to the little viewing hole and scowls, as if he can sense him there. He leans in, his own eye suddenly hovering in front of Joel's, deep and blue. "Hey, asshole," Jon says just loudly enough to be heard through the door. "Don't make me climb in the fucking window."  
  
Joel laughs and opens the door, already quirking a brow when he's got it open. "Are you trying to wake up everyone in the hall? That's rude, Jo-"  
  
"Yeah, yeah." Jon is a relatively tiny man, but Joel is tinier, and it's too easy for Jon to push past him with his suitcase. "Tell that to the guy who lost his hotel room, great."  
  
Joel goes back to brushing as he wanders to the bathroom, and he spits out the foam. "You know, I thought you'd be grateful!"  
  
"You didn't even answer your phone!" Jon calls back, and Joel tries to pretend he's not grinning as he rinses his toothbrush. "I had to sit in the goddamn lobby with my suitcase for a fucking hour!"  
  
Joel rinses his mouth, then comes back into the bedroom. "By all means, Risinger, keep shouting," Joel drawls. He leans into the wall. "It's great for blowing off steam _and_ getting us kicked out of the hotel."  
  
Jon turns to look at him so theatrically that he tosses his hair in his own face. He's pretty sure he's trying to still look intimidating, but he finally frowns and blows the hair out of his eyes. "Don't suppose you have a different idea."  
  
That sounds like a challenge, if Joel has ever heard it. He drops onto the king-sized bed in a pose - on his side, fist supporting his head - and he looks at Jon with a quirked brow as he points his knee at the ceiling. "No, Jon, why would you think that?"  
  
Jon lets his eyes skim quickly over Joel, more cursory than anything, and that's...more than Joel expected, honestly. Jon's receptive when the cameras are on, but the second they're off he's just a little less touchy, less mouthy, less _everything_. Joel's on the edge of holding his breath when Jon huffs out a laugh and shakes his head. "Yeah, I don't know." He lays his suitcase down and squats to open it, to start digging through it. "Maybe it's because you're Joel fucking Rubin?"  
  
"And what does that mean?" Joel teases.  
  
"It means," Jon says patiently as he fishes a pair of gym shorts out of the suitcase, "that you're a ridiculous flirt."  
  
"I don't know where you got that idea."  
  
"Mm." A bag of toiletries comes out next, and Jon finally turns his eyes to meet Joel's, wide and blue and really fucking pretty. "Me neither. Probably wasn't the Rock Band launch." He comes to his feet and wanders to the bathroom, leaves the door open. "Or the Extra Life stream." The faucet starts running, so he lifts his voice. "Or all the thirty billion times I've been down at the Funhaus office, definitely not that!"  
  
Joel flops onto his back and grins up at the ceiling, his hands behind his neck. Yeah, those were...those were some lovely times. He can remember the scent of alcohol on Jon's breath when they were practically screaming a song into each other's mouths on stage, can remember the softness of Jon's thighs under him and the warmth of his arms around his waist as he dropped into his lap on the stream, can remember lingering over Jon's shoulder every spare moment he had while Jon was working on their logos and whatever the fuck else.  
  
He's gotta say, Jon is nothing if not resilient.  
  
But Joel prides himself on persistence. He knows the effect he has on people - men, women, otherwise, it doesn't matter - and he knows it's only a matter of time before he gets Jon to talk about this...this _thing_ that they've got going on. That's all he wants. He doesn't need to fuck him, doesn't need to do anything. Just wants to clear the air.  
  
The fucking, though, that really would be nice.  
  
Jon appears a few minutes later, teeth freshly brushed and stripped down to his gym shorts and that incredibly distracting black v-neck, and Joel watches as Jon wanders toward the bed like he's in trouble. He holds a hand out, and Joel blinks. "What?"  
  
"I..." Jon gives a little smile, like maybe Joel isn't fully attending. "I'm sleeping on your floor, remember? That's what I said in the voicemail? Need a pillow."  
  
Joel blinks a few more times purely for effect. "The fuck do you need a pillow for?"  
  
"My head, Joel," he says, still adorably patient, like he used to be, Joel bets, before On The Spot began draining his soul literally every week. "For my nice soft head. The floor is hard. We don't like hard."  
  
Joel can't help the grin that spreads across his face. "Says who?"  
  
Jon laughs, at least, because he _does_ have a good sense of humor even if he looks like he thinks Joel might eat him alive, and he finally shuffles forward to grab a pillow and tug it. Joel rolls over and pins it to the bed with his body, gives Jon a challenging look.  
  
They stare at each other, just like Jon hasn't really let himself do the entire time they've been in the room together, and not for the first time Joel feels that little tremor right in the base of his gut. The taste of the chase. The thrill.  
  
Fuck, he's a slut for that.  
  
"Joel," Jon finally says, and his tone is soft but bright, like he's talking to a class of kindergartners. "Please don't make me beat you to death with a lamp just to get this pillow. I'll do it. I have a lot of aggression to take out today."  
  
"Yeah?" Joel asks. "You mean it?"  
  
"Absolutely."  
  
"Know what I'm willing to propose?"  
  
"Joel-"  
  
"Naked wrestling."  
  
Jon breathes a laugh more in surprise than anything, and he finally lets the pillow go, takes a few steps back and shakes his head. "You're fucking unbelievable."  
  
"Nice try, Risinger," Joel says, sitting up, hugging the pillow to his body, "but I believe the proper word is 'incorrigible.'"  
  
"Or asshole."  
  
"That too."  
  
Jon runs a hand through his hair, practically raking the strands, and he finally lets out a sharp breath and looks away. "Okay. You know what? Fine. I don't need a pillow." He makes his way to the closet and opens it, stands on his tiptoes. "Blanket. There's always a spare blanket in these places."  
  
Joel attempts to look innocent.  
  
"Blanket. Blanket."  
  
Attempts not to shift.  
  
"...why is there no blanket."  
  
"Oh no," Joel says tonelessly. "They must have forgotten it. What a shame."  
  
Jon slowly turns to look at him, and the smile's dropped away now, is replaced by sheer shock. "You did something."  
  
"What? Me?"  
  
"Unbelievable." Jon covers his face with a groan, then scrubs his cheeks with his hands. "Joel, holy shit, I just want to _sleep_. Can I do that?"  
  
Joel lifts his eyebrow again. "You know, maybe, just maybe, if you ask nicely, I'll let you share the bed."  
  
Jon closes his eyes, chews on his bottom lip again. It's a good look for him, the indecision, makes him look young and innocent, as if he didn't already look like he was fresh out of college. But he isn't...responding? Which is odd? Joel is used to people telling him to fuck off or immediately leaning in for a kiss, and it's interesting to see Jon stuck somewhere in the middle of that.  
  
You know, this whole time Joel thought that he and Jon were onto something here, but suddenly he wonders if he's been reading him wrong the whole damn time.  
  
"Okay," Jon finally says softly, almost a whisper, and he delicately lifts both hands, index fingers and thumbs touching as if he's about to start conducting an orchestra. "Yeah. Okay. We can do that. If you keep your hands to yourself."  
  
Joel sits up straight. "Do you want me to?"  
  
Jon opens and closes his mouth like a fish, then breathes another laugh. "Joel. Joel Rubin. You're cute. You're...you're incredible. You and me both know that. But this?" He gestures between them. "This thing? You really don't think it'd blow up in our faces?"  
  
He feels confused and more than a little blindsided, and he wrinkles his brow as Jon sits on the edge of the bed and starts pulling his socks off. "Why...do you think it'd do that?"  
  
"That's all we need," he says too casually, keeping his back to him. "Have a nice little fuck, make things awkward, make things weird, and then have it interfere with our jobs literally every time Burnie tells me I'm coming down to L.A. to do some work for you guys. Yeah, that's just peachy."  
  
Joel huffs and tosses the pillow behind him, crawling down the bed. "And tell me why you think that's gonna happen?"  
  
"Because that's what always happens in this damn company," he says. He balls up his sock and throws it across the room.  
  
"Okay, no, hold up, that's not...no, I know there's a party every weekend in this company and everybody's always riding everybody else, whatever, but I've never once seen it fuck things up-"  
  
"Then that's what always happens to _me_."  
  
Joel pauses behind Jon on his hands and knees. Jon throws the other sock, then sinks down with his elbows on his knees with a sigh. He hesitates. "Okay, but...but hear me out. What if it doesn't have to get awkward?"  
  
Jon is silent.  
  
"What if we have a hook up - because there's clearly some tension going on here between us and has been since February - and what if we're still friends after that?"  
  
"You can't promise that," Jon says.  
  
"Yeah, no, I can't _promise_ it, but I _can_ promise that I'm an adult, and that I work shit out. And that I'm really persistent, so even if you got spooked and _tried_ to end the friendship, I wouldn't let you, not without a good talk about how you feel about stuff first."  
  
More silence. Joel doesn't like silence. Not a fan. He needs music blasting in his ears, needs people shouting while they play video games, needs his boys losing their shit every five seconds when Joel can't play GTA to save his life. But he fights the urge to break the silence by rambling or trying to muscle Jon into speaking. That's not what this is about.  
  
Jon finally breaks it with a sigh. "Well, one thing's for sure. You're definitely a persistent asshole."  
  
"Hey." Joel fights the urge to smile but he can't quite manage it. "I'm pretty sure you like it."  
  
Jon chuckles and dips his head, rubbing the back of his neck.  
  
"...don't you?"  
  
There's a pause, and then Jon glances over his shoulder, meets Joel's eyes. "...yeah."  
  
"Knew it."  
  
"Shut up."  
  
"Can I kiss you now?"  
  
Jon flicks his eyes over Joel's face and tilts his head. "...yeah. Yeah, I guess you can."  
  
Jon's mouth is a thoroughly distracting thing, with that full bottom lip and the obvious smoothness of the sensitive pink skin there. Joel would be lying if he said he hadn't ever thought about how they'd taste, how they'd part under his tongue, how addicting it might feel for Jon to exhale hotly into his mouth. Turns out that all of Joel's fantasies missed the mark. He couldn't have imagined how sweet he'd taste, how delicate his bottom lip would feel as Joel traced his tongue over it.  
  
Fuck. So much for just one hook up.  
  
Jon twines an arm around Joel's waist, and Joel's more than willing to lean back into the mattress, to pull Jon until he's straddling him without breaking the kiss. Fuck that. Fuck ever not kissing this guy. He'll spend the rest of this damn convention kissing Jon if he can help it, and no one will tell him otherwise. How many autographs can he sign like this? How many panels can he give with Jon in his lap and his tongue down his throat?  
  
Jon lets out a soft moan as Joel wraps his arms around him, and Joel only hesitates for a moment before he slides his hands down the slope of his spine, into the valley of the small of his back, and finally over the curve of his ass.  
  
Goddamn.  
  
Jon gives a little roll of his hips, murmurs a thick sound a little louder against his mouth, and the kiss breaks for just a moment before Joel frowns, leans up, catches his lips again, and Jon goes with it, doesn't fight him. If anything, he sinks into him a little more so that Joel can barely breathe. It's distracting as hell, feeling that rush of Jon wanting him so badly that he doesn't want a breath of air between them, and Joel's willing to fight for every gasp if it means he gets to feel that.  
  
It takes a few seconds of groping Jon's ass for Joel to realize how impatient he is, and that's enough to make Joel want to laugh at himself. Any other person and he'd probably stretch this out for a while, would even consider the idea of edging just to keep their attention on him for hours on end, but Jon is...Jon is someone he's wanted for almost a year now, and he can feel every cell in his body aching for him.  
  
So even though it hurts, he breaks the kiss and reaches to rake Jon's hair out of his eyes, out of their faces. He tries to catch his breath. "Okay, listen, how about this: fuck the one hook up, we don't have a lot of time before we've gotta be up, so we get off, go to sleep, have some fantastic morning sex, and fuck literally every free second during this entire con. Sound good?"  
  
"Fuck yeah," Jon says without hesitation, and he dives in for another kiss.  
  
With that eloquent conversation out of the way he's helpless to stop himself from rolling his hips up to meet Jon's, and the gasp that Jon makes against his lips makes him work all the faster, bucking their hard cocks against each other in an insistent grind. At first they struggle finding a rhythm, a pressure, but the second that the stars align and they get that perfect press they're both groaning into each other's mouths.  
  
They lock eyes as they move, Joel biting his bottom lip, Jon's parted as he pants, and somehow that's even more dangerously erotic, holding his gaze, seeing how wide his pupils are.  
  
He's a goddamn addicting little man, and Joel knows here and now that he's never going to get enough of him.  
  
Jon suddenly gasps, brows knitting together, and he lets out a low "Fuck!"  
  
"Yeah?" Joel asks. "You close?"  
  
"I-I- yeah, I-"  
  
"C'mon, then." Joel grabs at Jon's hips and holds him steady, positions his own perfectly to rub their cocks together through the sleek fabric, just hard enough to make Joel start to see stars. He feels Jon panting against his cheek, hears his voice start cracking, and he gives just a little cry before he bites his lip, shuts his eyes, squeaks through his orgasm, and it's _so fucking goddamn cute_ that Joel's borderline on furious when he's pulled over the edge into his own orgasm and misses the tail end of Jon's.  
  
They hold each other as they shake and shiver, and Jon's hair is absolutely all over Joel's face, and he really doesn't give a shit because it smells lovely, and also it's Jon's. It's quiet. It's borderline romantic.  
  
And then Jon has to speak up, of course. "I can't believe you made me fucking come in my only sleep shorts."  
  
"Whatever, you've got briefs on, I felt that cock support."  
  
"You made me come so hard I came through the briefs. I can feel it. Don't lie to me."  
  
"You're fine, stop being a baby," he says as he reaches between them, and then he goes quiet. "...oh."  
  
"Fuck you."  
  
"Hey," Joel says. "If you're a good boy tomorrow, then who's to say that all of your greatest dreams won't come true?"  
  
" _Fuck_ you. I'm sticky and sleepy and don't wanna move."  
  
Joel shrugs, then slowly rolls them over onto their sides. "Well, guess we're sleeping naked now."  
  
"Unbelievable."  
  
"You complaining?"  
  
"Shut up."  
  
"I didn't think so."


End file.
